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Music World  →  Lyrics  →  A  →  Air  →  Albums  →  The Virgin Suicides

Air Album


The Virgin Suicides (02/29/2000)
02/29/2000
1.
2.
Clouds Up
3.
Bathroom Girl
4.
Cemetery Party
5.
Dark Messages
6.
7.
Dirty Trip
8.
Highschool Lover
9.
Afternoon Sister
10.
Ghost Song
11.
Empty House
12.
Dead Bodies
13.
. . .



I'm a high school lover, and you're my favorite flavor
Love is all, all my soul
You're my Playground Love

Yet my hands are shaking
I feel my body remains, themes no matter, I'm on fire
On the playground, love.

You're the piece of gold the flushes all my soul.
Extra time, on the ground.
You're my Playground Love.

Anytime, anyway,
You're my Playground Love.

. . .

Clouds Up

[No lyrics]

. . .

Bathroom Girl

[No lyrics]

. . .

Cemetery Party

[No lyrics]

. . .

Dark Messages

[No lyrics]

. . .



The word 'Hurricane' is the name given to nature's strongest storm.
A hurricane occurs when high pressure and low pressure masses of air come in
contact with one another.

There is often a significant difference in temperature between the two masses.

One mass is warm, while the other is cold.
The warmer air rises, and the cooler air falls.
Likewise, the low pressure area slides down the sides of the high pressure area.


They swirl in and around one another, creating the beginnings of the storm.

. . .

Dirty Trip

[No lyrics]

. . .

Highschool Lover

[No lyrics]

. . .

Afternoon Sister

[No lyrics]

. . .

Ghost Song

[No lyrics]

. . .

Empty House

[No lyrics]

. . .

Dead Bodies

[No lyrics]

. . .



Everyone dated the demise of our neighborhood from the suicide of the Lisbon
girls.
People saw their clairvoyance in the wiped-out elms and harsh sunlight.
Some thought the torture tearing the Lisbon girls pointed to a simple refusal to
accept the world as it was handed down to them:
So full of flaws.
But the only thing we are certain of after all these years is the insufficiency
of explanations.

"Obviously doctor, you've never been a thirteen year-old girl."

The Lisbon girls were 13, Cecile, 14, Lux, 15, Bonnie, 16, Mary, and 17,
Therese.
No one could understand how Mrs. Lisbon and Mr. Lisbon, a math teacher, had
produced such beautiful creatures.

From that time one, the Lisbon house began to change.
Almost every day, and even when she wasn't keeping an eye on Cecilia,
Lux would suntan on her towel wearing a swimsuit that caused the knife-sharpener
to give her a 15-minute demonstration for free.

The only reliable boy who got to know Lux was Trip Fontaine
For only 18 months before the suicides had emerged from baby fat
To the delight of girls and mothers alike.

But few anticipated it would be so drastic.
The girls were pulled out of school, and Mrs. Lisbon shut the house for maximum
security isolation.
The girls' only contact to the outside world was through the catalogs
They ordered that started to fill the Lisbon's mailbox with pictures of high-end
fashions and brochures for exotic vacations.
Unable to go anywhere, the girls traveled in their imaginations:
To gold-tipped Siamese temples or past an old man, the leaf broom tidying the
[Maw's] carpeted [speck] of Japan (???).
And Cecelia hadn't died.She was a bride in Calcutta.

Collecting everything we could of theirs, we couldn't get the Lisbon girls out
of our minds, but they were slipping away.
The colors of their eyes were fading, along with exact locations of moles and
dimples.
From five, they had become four, and they were all (the living and the dead),
become shadows.
We would have lost them completely if the girls hadn't contacted us.

Lux was the last to go.
Fleeing from the house, we forgot to stop at the garage.
After the suicide free-for-all, Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon gave up any attempt to lead
a normal life.
They had Mr. Henry pack up the house, selling what furniture he could at a
garage sale.
Everyone went just to look.
Our parents did not buy used furniture, and they certainly didn't buy furniture
tainted by death.
We of course took the family photos that were put out with the trash.
Mr. Lisbon put the house on the market, and it was sold to a young couple from
Boston.

It didn't matter in the end how old they had been, or that they were girls,
But only that we had loved them, and that they hadn't heard us call; still did
not hear us,
Calling out of those rooms where they went to be alone for all time, alone in
suicide,
Which is deeper than death, and where we will never find the pieced to put them
back together.

. . .


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